


Toast

by bushidobunny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Castiel Learns to be Human, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Horrible cooking, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushidobunny/pseuds/bushidobunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is doing his best to try to become a self sufficient human. But this cooking thing is really hard.</p><p>(( One shot. Mild Destiel. ))</p><p>(( originally posted on my Castiel Tumblr blog - the--awkward--angel ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast

All of this was so very new. Every smell, sensation and sound. While they were extraordinarily muted compared to what they were while he was an angel, they were simultaneously far more stimulating.

Humans were an enigma, truly. They sense and perceive the world with a far more limited range of physical and energetic senses and yet… until this point he could not say that he had truly experienced the world at all.

Castiel glanced around the kitchen of the Winchester’s underground bunker, eating had never been a worry that he had to deal with and this cooking was something that was completely outside of his realm of experience and skill. Yet… how hard could it be? He was an ancient being who had commanded garrisons of Heaven through combat. Surely he could master cinnamon toast.

Cerulean eyes narrowed suspiciously at the equipment on the counters as he approached with his pieces of white bread gently clenched in his battle worn hands. All of these appliances looked… alien to him, but he was finally able to find a device called a “toaster oven”. Castiel set his bread inside, closing the glass door and turned his attention instead to the timer on the device.

He had no idea how long it took to toast bread… and there were so many settings on this strange contraption that it was nothing short of intimidating. He pulled out his phone to text Dean, to ask him what he should do- but before he pressed the send button he second guessed it.

Dean was on a hunt. The last thing he needed was to be bombarded by texts from an inept ex-angel about something as trivial as this.

Instead, he guessed. The temperature button was already turned to four hundred, which seemed as good a temperature as any. Apparently it was fine for the last time the device was used. Then Castiel gave the timer a swift turn, setting the machine to run for ten minutes. It seemed a reasonable time to him.

With a small, sideways smile he turned away from the machine as it began to hum, filled with a red glow.

“That was not so hard.” he commented to himself, his gruff voice echoing slightly in the kitchen as he made his way to the cupboard filled with spices. He quickly found the jar of cinnamon and placed it on the counter. The brown substance did not look quite like what was on the toast that Dean had made for him… but perhaps it would look different on the buttered toast.

The next logical step seemed, to him, to be to procure the container of butter, which he set on top of the toaster oven, where it seemed that it would be the most convenient to access when the toast had completed it’s duration in the oven.

It was a small achievement, yet it caused a grin to linger at the corner of his mouth, this efficiency.

The timer still had a full nine minutes before the bread was ready for preparation… now all there was to do was wait.

Waiting was monotonous.

Thus, Castiel decided that this time would best be spent doing something that may be considered helpful to his friends. He left the kitchen, settling himself in to read some of the lore left by the Men of Letters which Sam had opened on the table.

He had become absorbed into one of the texts by the time that he heard the timer sound in the kitchen.

He quickly made his way, stomach growling at the thought of the toast that was awaiting him - but the moment that he rounded the corner he was made aware that something had gone terribly awry.

Thick smoke hung in the air, the source of which was obviously the toaster oven and the completely melted plastic tub on top of it. He ran to the device, brushing the container off of it with his hand, burning himself on molten plastic in the process.

Castiel swore under his breath as he wrenched open the oven, quickly removing the burned squares of charcoal that were supposed to be his meal.

Perhaps this was still salvageable…

It would be a shame for it all to go to waste.

With a sigh he began the painstaking process of transferring the melted butter from the counter onto his blackened bread with a small spoon, seeing as a knife would be of little help at this point.

The cinnamon still did not look right, even when put on the bread with butter, but that was likely due more to the fact that the entire mess looked completely wrong.

The sight of it was far less disappointing than the taste, however. The bread was bitter and unpleasant, the butter tasted more like plastic than anything else and the spices were repulsive.

This was definitely not what he had in mind. The toast that Dean had brought to him was sweet and delicious. This… This was an abomination.

With a sigh of disappointment and disgust Castiel deposited the sad excuse for cinnamon toast into the sink before simply turning his back on the failed experiment. Luckily his time working at the gas station had given him the skill needed to at least clean up after himself a bit, which he bitterly proceeded to do.

When he had completed the task of removing burned plastic from atop the toaster oven and wiping down the counter Cass grabbed, instead, one of the already prepared and individually wrapped granola bars from inside the cupboard and one of the glass bottles of beer from the fridge; it was probably for the best that he give up on cooking until one of his more experienced companions could show him how it was done.

The chewy bar of granola, peanut butter and chocolate, while good, did not truly satiate him. He had, unfortunately, been craving a particular taste, and it seemed that anything else was quite disappointing. It was, however, a reality that he resigned himself to.

With one last glance at the kitchen Castiel hoped that he had not done any lasting damage to the toaster oven; his being a human had already put enough on his friend’s plates without him destroying their possessions as well.

He had known disappointment as an angel, but his ineptitude at something so simple caused it to flare up in his chest in a way that he had never known while possessing his grace. Human emotions were volatile and quick to come on. It was likely the hardest part of losing his divinity, even more challenging than the loss of his wings, certainly.

‘The lightheadedness that accompanies the imbibing of alchohol is a welcome change, though’ he thought as he emptied the bottle down his throat during the walk to the room he stayed in. The swimming sensation in his mind made it easier to forget his disappointment. ‘It makes far more sense to me now why this is Dean’s coping strategy. If challenges in cooking can lead me to drink- it is no wonder that he choses to mask his far worse disappointments with spirits.’

Castiel dropped the now empty bottle into the rubbish bin before he collapsed on the bed that had been provided for his use. He was not so confident as to call this “his bed”, all of this, after all, belonged to the Winchesters and he was merely a guest in their home for now. But the bed was firm and the pillows were soft; a comfort that he had not known during his duration squatting under bridges with transients or crashing in the back room of the Gas N’ Sip. Soon his eyes had closed and the fallen angel was lulled into a deep sleep.

He could not determine if a few minutes or even days after he had closed his eyes had passed; sleep was still new to him and being drawn back into wakefulness was quite disorienting. Yet he assumed it was far closer to the prior, judging by the fact his head still swam slightly from his drink as he was awakened by a movement on the bed beside him. The shape in the darkness that was familiar, as well as the accompanying comforting scent of aftershave and whiskey… Also, a sweet and tantalizing smell that caused him to lift his weary head.

“Hello Dean.” he said gruffly as he lifted himself into a sitting position and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey’a Cass. Up and at ‘em.” came the response as a plate was set on his lap. Although it was dark Castiel was able to definitely make out the shape of two pieces of toast that were accompanied by the sweet yet tangy smell of cinnamon which he had tried to recreate.

“Thank you.” he said with a soft sigh before adding, “I had tried to make some of my own. However-”

“You torched it?” Dean replied with the edge of a chuckle barely evident. “Yeah, I saw.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed for just a moment before his shoulders drooped slightly and he merely nodded in response. Dean nudged him softly with his shoulder and in dismissive and gruff voice assured, “Don’t worry about it, Cass. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Castiel smiled softly in the darkness once again nodding in response and scooted up to lean against the headboard, settling in beside his dearest friend. He plucked one of the pieces of toast from the plate, taking a small bite as he offered the second piece to Dean, who accepted it with a grunt of acknowledgement.

“It will help, I think, that I have role models such as you and Sam to teach me how to be human.” Castiel mused thoughtfully. He looked at his friend, surprised, when his comment was met with genuine laughter. “I do not understand what you find humorous…”

“Me ‘n Sam ‘re probably the worst examples of ‘how to be human’ that you could’ve ended up with. You’re screwed.”

“That is not true.” Castiel retorted somewhat defensively, “You are a good man. And a good friend. If there was anyone I would choose to learn humanity from, it would be you, Dean.”

“Knock it off, man. You are getting way too close to ‘chick-flick moment’ territory for me.” the Hunter retorted before tearing into the toast viciously in a display of dominance, as if to defend his masculinity.

Castiel shook his head, chuckling softly as he lay it on Dean’s shoulder, “Thank you, for the toast.”

“No problem, man.” Dean replied softly as he tilted his own head to rest his cheek against Castiel’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> (( I hope that you guys enjoyed it. I know that it was silly. I plan on there being much more of such shenanigans here. If you ever have any prompt requests, feel free to send them my way.))


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